


Antipodes

by hopeless_circus



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Amnesia, Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5429918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_circus/pseuds/hopeless_circus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire wasn't even supposed to be a Ranger.</p><p>"I'll do it," he said.</p><p>Éponine stood up. Grantaire tapped his cigarette on his windowsill, watching the ashes fall and disappear into the sea of neon. He expected Éponine to leave, but she didn't. Just kept looking at him.</p><p>"I'm not joking," he said, still looking outside. "I will. It's actually a great idea. Best I ever had, probably."</p><p>Éponine sat back down. "Grantaire," she said, her voice shaking. "How can you say that?"</p><p>"No, think about it. No one knows the repercussions better than we do. No one knows the risks. I'd argue that it's ethically unsound to have anyone <i>but</i> one of us take that kind of risk."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken a lot of liberties with the timeline of PacRim, as well as the canon. So, apologies for that. 
> 
> There's character death right at the beginning, but it's not exactly major character death.

Grantaire wasn't even supposed to be a Ranger.

He was in Hong Kong when it happened. Not the first Kaiju attack, mind you. That happened when he was a kid--he can't even remember what it was like before all that business.

No, the _It_ that in Grantaire's head will always be _The Incident_ happened when he was 21, as a J-Tech intern at the Shatterdome in Hong Kong.

At the time, Enjolras and Combeffere had been the Rangers for the French Jaeger, _Liberté et Egalité_. They had grown up together, trained since children to become Jaeger pilots, and had worked as a seamless pair. Grantaire had been on maintenance, and he had caught glimpses of them from across the room or down the hall, walking with purpose or standing with their heads bowed in tense conversation. He had seen them, once, sparring in the Kwoon Combat Room, and it was a sight that Grantaire would never forget. 

Rangers had always been revered, of course: they were the heroes of their generation. Enjolras, though, was special. There was something about him that shone on beyond his perfect appearance. The burning desire to protect, to do what's right, even at the cost of his or his co-pilot's life.

That, of course, was exactly what happened. The Incident. 

They weren't really sure what was happening at the time, although satellite video had later surfaced, and it showed what had taken place. Grantaire must have watched it a dozen times, trying to parse out exactly what had happened. As far as he could tell, the Kaiju managed to pierce  _Liberté et Egalité_ with its tail, splitting it almost in half down the middle, and destroying half the cockpit. 

At that point,  _Liberté_ _et_ _Egalité_ _,_ had astonishingly managed to pick itself up, strangle the Kaiju with its own tail, and pick up the abandoned, unmoving half of its cockpit, and slowly make its way back to shore. 

By the time Enjolras got back to the hangar, Combeferre was dead. 

 

+

Javert was nothing like the previous Marshal of the Jaeger program. He was a bit too stern and completely opaque, and when he met Grantaire, still dripping from the April rain, he gave him a only a scowl and an impatient gesture inside. 

Grantaire followed him down the hall, past the warehouse, down the stairs, beyond the hangars, into the labs. The crew inside all looked up when they entered.

"Everyone, this is Grantaire. He'll be joining us on project Devilfish."

His head snapped around to look at Grantaire, and Grantaire stared back, wide-eyed and with wet bangs sticking to his face. Javert's look was decidedly unimpressed, and Grantaire couldn't blame him. "Welcome back to Hong Kong," Javert said curtly, and left.

As soon as he was gone, the room burst into life. The staff gave him warm smiles and pats on the back, and Éponine sprung on him and gave him a tight hug. They were pretty close, back when they worked together. Grantaire remembered sitting across from her at lunch, stealing fries off her plate when she wasn't looking and trying to catch a glimpse of Enjolras from across the mess hall.

"R!" She said, beaming. "How have you been? How was Vladivostok?"

Grantaire laughed. "I never saw the sun and got a nice sickly pallor from staring at computers all day. Just like what I'll be doing here!" He looked at the door that Javert left through. "What happened to Valjean?"

"Transferred to San Fransisco. He's still a consultant on Devilfish, though, if you need to talk to him."

Grantaire dropped his bag at his desk. "So, who's the poor asshole that's gonna be our guinea pig on this project?" 

"We have a pilot, but no takers for co-pilot yet." 

He scoffed as he consulted his notes. "Yeah, no fucking wonder. Does the pilot know what they're getting into?" 

"We've briefed him." 

There was a strange note in Éponine's voice that made Grantaire look at her, and she shifted uncomfortably. 

"Well? Do I get to meet him?" 

That was the moment the door opened, and Enjolras strolled in, red and gold and glorious. Grantaire felt himself suck in a breath, and felt himself gape, but didn't seem to be able to make himself actually say anything. Grantaire noted absently that he looked good, despite the trauma he had been through. Not much older, but then again, not a lot of time had passed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Éponine grimace and say some sort of introduction, but all he could hear in his ears was buzzing. 

Enjolras gave him a polite smile. "Nice to meet you, Grantaire." He held out his hand. 

Of course, what came out of his traitorous mouth was, "What's an angel like you doing in a place like this?" 

Behind Enjolras, he could see Éponine's hand going to her face, and Enjolras's smile gained a few shades of stiffness. He dropped his hand, and Éponine, thankfully, swooped in for some damage control.

"So, we're all going to go out for dinner tonight to get to know each other. I've made a reservation at Super Star!" 

Enjolras's face said everything he needed to about getting to know Grantaire better, but he nodded. 

 

+

 

Javert had offered Grantaire a bunker in the Shatterdome, but he turned it down. He knew it was kind of a stupid decision, but he couldn't stand the thought of being underground for that long. Even with the threat of sirens going off hanging heavy every night, he couldn't do it. Not after what happened in Vladivostok.

He got a little shoebox of a place in Mong Kok instead, and it would be generous to call it a studio apartment. It was really more like a small room with a stove and a toilet sectioned off. 

All his belongings fit into two sports bags though, so it wasn't too hard to actually move his entire life in. His most valuable belonging was his laptop--specifically, the notes on it--and he left that at the Shatterdome. 

Dinner earlier had been a tense affair--Grantaire sitting sandwiched between Éponine and Jehan, as if to keep him in check, and Enjolras sitting across from him, as far away as possible. Every time their eyes met, he had shifted uncomfortably and looked away. Grantaire had thought it was rather fascinating how skillfully Enjolras managed to avoid looking at or talking to him, so he had stood up several times to refill Enjolras's tea. At a round table of twelve people, it hadn't been an easy task--Grantaire got the corner of his jacket in the food more than once. What had started out as a stiff thanks from Enjolras had turned into a full-on glare by the end of the night, and about the fifth time Grantaire had tried to stand up, Éponine had yanked him back down, hissing that he was making a scene.

Grantaire didn't think he was making a scene. He was being polite. 

"You were making a scene," Éponine said now, from the poor excuse for a kitchen in his apartment. She was digging around for a lighter, he knew, and he also knew that there wasn't one the last time he looked. She managed to find one anyway. "Who the hell pours tea for someone across from them? Can't you just leave well enough alone?" 

Grantaire sat down on a rickety chair by the window, Éponine on the low bed next to it. She handed him the lighter and he lit a cigarette, pushed the window open. 

"I can't seem to help myself when it comes to him." 

Éponine sighed. "Don't get too attached. If we can't find a co-pilot, we might have to can the project." 

From where Grantaire was sitting, he couldn't see where the Shatterdome was, on Tsing Yi. All he could see were high-rises and neon lights. He was hoping that he'd be able to see a Jaeger, or at least the water.

Enjolras probably lived in the Shatterdome, which was a shame, because he seemed like the type who should have a view of the water. He hoped there was at least a window in his room.

"I'll do it," he said. 

Éponine stood up. Grantaire tapped his cigarette on his windowsill, watching the ashes fall and disappear into the sea of neon. He expected Éponine to leave, but she didn't. Just kept looking at him. 

"I'm not joking," he said, still looking outside. "I will. It's actually a great idea. Best I ever had, probably." 

Éponine sat back down. "Grantaire," she said, her voice shaking. "How can you say that?" 

"No, think about it. No one knows the repercussions better than we do. No one knows the risks. I'd argue that it's ethically unsound to have anyone _but_ one of us take that kind of risk." 

"We can't spare you. We  _just_ got you, R!" 

Grantaire laughed. "You're kidding yourself if you think that I'm indispensable. I've only been on this project for a year. I'm not a lead. I'm not even particularly smart." 

"First of all, you're underestimating how hard it is to find a good engineer--" 

"And we don't have another volunteer, do we? Five years into the project and having it axed, just like that?" 

Éponine bit her lip. "I can't let you--" 

"You're not  _letting_ me do anything. I'm  _choosing_ to do this." 

She said nothing, and a few minutes later, she reached out for a cigarette, held it in her mouth. He lit it for her, and lit himself another, and they sat and listened to the traffic. 

+ 

 

The first round of trials wouldn't even begin for another month, probably closer to two, but Grantaire was still up to his ears in work. He had to get tested endlessly for pretty much everything in the book so they have a very clear picture of his baseline health.  He probably wasn't as healthy as he could be, but he was their only volunteer, so they would take what they got. 

He'd met Javert the very next morning to tell him of his decision, prepared with a long winded argument, but Javert had only nodded grimly and handed him the waiver. Grantaire didn't know why he was surprised--he was hardly the first person to volunteer himself for science, and this actually makes thing easier for everyone. After all, who better to write accurate reports than someone who knows exactly what they're looking for? 

"Clean bill," Éponine said. "Although you may want to cut down on alcohol. We're not really sure how it would affect your nervous system, after all." 

Grantaire was still reading the waiver when she sat down across from him. He'd known the consequences as well as anyone could--he had a hand in writing the waiver, even-- but reading the effects and thinking about it applied to  _him_ still gave him pause. 

"A couple of drinks can't possibly be worse for my nervous system than this is," he said, still running his fingers through the list of possible effects-- _neurological and psychological damage, temporary or permanent brain damage, death._

Éponine's mouth was a tight line. "Let's not speed things along then, okay?" 

Grantaire laughed, and Éponine's stern look got even more grim, if possible. "What did Valjean think?" he asked. 

"Valjean thought the entire project was a bad idea to begin with." 

"He would, wouldn't he?" 

Éponine gave a sad smile. "He's like you, in that way." 

Grantaire returned her smile, and pressed his thumb on fingerprint reader of his tablet. He was about to go back to his desk when Enjolras walked in, paused, and hovered awkwardly by the doorway.

Éponine looked back and forth between them for a second, before she took the tablet and stood up. "Well, you two have to get to know each other.  Grantaire, behave," she said, and left. 

Grantaire had never seen someone look as uncomfortable as Enjolras, standing in front of him. He waved at the now vacated seat in front of him, and Enjolras sat down. 

"I just wanted to thank you for volunteering. I know it's not going to be... easy.  And this project was getting very close to being cancelled, so, thank-you." 

Grantaire waved it off. "It was at least half a year from being cancelled, but with me on, we can move forward a bit faster." 

Enjolras nodded stiffly. "I'm not an expert on what being a co-pilot entails, I've just been told that it's not an easy role to take." 

Grantaire started.  "You don't know? What did they tell you?" Enjolras hesitated, and Grantaire said again, "Tell me what you know about the project." 

"They didn't tell me much, to be honest. After... after Combeferre, I wasn't able to drift with another pilot, and that's when Mr. Valjean suggested that I volunteer for Devilfish. He was the head of the project at the time."

"Didn't you sign any waivers?" Grantaire put his hand to his chest, as if scandalized.  "Don't tell me you signed them without _reading_ them! You're better than that!"

Enjolras bristled. "Of _course_ I read them! But as far as I could tell, it was just a highly experimental project to allow pilots to co-pilot even if they're drift incompatible.  I'm not a specialist, a lot of the more technical terms just made no sense to me." 

"Thankfully, I am. That's the gist of it, anyway. Basically, we're developing a special Conn-Pon Headset that allows one Ranger be the main chair, while a secondary co-pilot--that's me-- take some of the mental strain of controlling a Jaeger. We would be drifting, but I would be deferring any kind of control to you.  I would basically be an... Ancillary to you." 

Enjolras considered this. "Aren't there any... complications?" 

Grantaire smiled. "Well. Don't forget that even though I'm just an ancillary, we're still drifting. I'll be in your head, fucking around in all your memories." 

Enjolras's head snapped up. 

"I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but you already signed the waiver. I can probably swing something if you really want out, but..." 

"What about yours? Your memories?" 

Grantaire frowned. "You won't see them. As far as we're both concerned, I'm just going to be an extension of you while we're in the Jaeger." 

"Won't that be... confusing? For you?" 

Grantaire laughed. _This_ was what he was concerned with? "Maybe a little, but that's why I had to sign a 10-page waiver. It shouldn't be a big problem, and there are worse people to be than you for a couple of hours." 

_Now_ Enjolras looked uncomfortable. He shifted a bit and nodded, as if he didn't know what else to do, and Grantaire took pity on him. He stood up.

"Don't worry about it, it shouldn't be anything I can't handle. If you don't mind, I actually am still a tech so I have work to do, but I'll see you around."

 

+

He spotted Enjolras from across the mess hall a few days later, sitting with Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta. They perked up, and Joly waved him over.

"Grantaire!" He said. "We heard you were back! Javert must be hiding you away in that secret basement lab of his."

"Yeah, yeah," Grantaire said. "I just got in a few days ago."

Enjolras's gaze darted between them. "Do you know each other?"

Bossuet nodded while the other two smiled. They always functioned perfectly like this, not exactly finishing each other's sentences, but still working together like clockwork. They never interrupted each other or contradicted one another. It always unnerved him, the way drift compatible Rangers did that. "Yeah, R was the lead engineer on _Rebel Six_. We probably gave him way too many sleepless nights, and not in a fun way."

Grantaire laughed. "What are you guys talking about? I wasn't the lead, I was just a guy with a wrench."

Joly frowned. "Don't sell yourself short. You were second probably only to Valjean. Before you went to Vladivostok, anyway."

Enjolras watched this exchange with a contemplating eye. "How come I've never met you before?"

Grantaire shrugged. "I was an intern when you were a Ranger, and I only worked on _Rebel Six_. I think at the time, Monteparsse was responsible for your Jaeger. I just followed Valjean around, for the most part."

Bossuet laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "He really isn't giving himself enough credit. He really was a blessing to have on our team, we don't know what we would've done without him. I was going to ask to have him transferred back onto our team, but Éponine would probably fight me." 

Grantaire just shook his head and stole a fry from Bossuet's plate, deftly dodging the smack aimed at his direction. Enjolras was eating, but his face was grim and serious and slightly disapproving, like he was watching several obnioxus children at play. "Can you really be a co-pilot then? Don't they need you?" 

This time, Grantaire took a drink from Bossuet's cup of tea. "Ah," he said, wiping his mouth. "Don't you worry your gorgeous head about that, Apollo. I'll be on double duty. With my workload shuffled around, of course, but they need a co-pilot a lot more than they need another engineer." 

Enjolras just blinked. He mouthed the word "Apollo" and Grantaire cringed. He hadn't meant to let that slip, but around the table, the other three Rangers just burst out into uproarious laughter. 

"Your  _face,_ Enjolras" Joly said. "That was wonderful." 

"He has always called you that, our Grantaire, _'A god among men,'_ " Musichetta quoted, " _'All that perfection can't be real. All that body, makes me wanna party."_ '

Bossuet was cackling and pounding Grantaire's back, while Grantaire buried his face in his hands. He decided to just roll with it, as uncomfortable as this must be making Enjolras. He looked up to see Enjolras staring at him with horror on his face, and then he just couldn't help himself. "Hey, your face makes me want to party, too," said he, and then winked at him. 

That was the last straw for Enjolras, as he stood up, abandoning his food, and left the canteen. Grantaire grimaced, but Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta were still laughing around him, and he just figured that he would have to apologize later. 

 

+

 

Later never came, as Éponine immediately called him into her office after lunch and handed him an intense workout regiment, to be overseen by herself and Enjolras.

Enjolras had apparently kept in great shape even after he retired as a Ranger, which was just like him, really.  Grantaire, as someone who stared at computer screens all day, had some catching up to do.

Between the hellishly intense regiment that he had to stick to with military precision, his regular workload, and the fact that all alcohol was banned from his diet, Grantaire didn't have much of an opportunity, or desire, to grovel at Enjolras's feet. 

Enjolras, for his own part, didn't check in on him much--probably still embarrassed and furious with him, which Grantaire couldn't exactly blame him for--which left Éponine to be the one for Grantaire to hand in his progress reports to.  Which he usually chose to do while lying on the floor and swearing at the ceiling.

Occasionally, Javert himself would come in and stare down his nose at Grantaire, lying on the floor in a pathetic heap, before spinning on his heels and marching out. 

The sirens had gone off only once during that time, in the middle of the night, when Grantaire was at home. He had sat up straight, looked out the window, checked his phone, and went back to bed. He had always been a bit fatalistic, and he firmly believed that if he was going to be killed in a Kaiju attack, he had done all he can to help with the cause. 

He was completely fine, of course, because the Kaiju had come out somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.  _Rebel Six_ had taken care of it, and Grantaire had felt a swell of pride for the Rangers he used to work so closely with. 

"Good," said Éponine, about a month and a half into their regiment, with a hand braced on the front of his treadmill. "You've made some pretty impressive progress in a short amount of time."

Grantaire slowed to a walk and tipped over onto the ground, yanking off some of the sensor pads. Most of them still stuck to him, probably making him look like the most worthless cyborg ever.  "I regret everything," he said.

She just gave him a patronizing look and patted his head with the tip of her shoe. "Well, you'll be regretting it a lot more when we actually start initial trials."

"Don't remind me," Grantaire told the floor. "How's Enjolras doing? Surviving without me?"

Éponine laughed. "Better than you are. I'm starting to get the feeling that _you_ would survive better without you."

Grantaire didn't say anything, and Éponine took pity on him. "We're going out for dinner, she said. There's a new Korean place in Causeway Bay that we want to try. Are you coming?"

He shook his head, which had the side effect of scraping his sweaty forehead on the carpet. As much as he wanted to see Enjolras, he was pretty sure the other didn't want to see  _him_. The longer he went without apologizing, the weirder and more awkward it seemed to be to bring it up again.  That, coupled with the fact that facing him would mean that he would have to contemplate the fact that Enjolras was better without him in his life-- He got up off the ground by executing one of the most perfect push-ups that ever existed.

"Nah, I'm going out. Have fun."

Éponine glowered at him. "One drink, okay?"

Grantaire waved her off and head off to the showers. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't always drink until he blacked out, nor did he want keep himself constantly swimming in a state of inebriation. However, once in a while, he did appreciate a good buzz, and he had been sober for long enough to give himself a treat.

He made it to Lan Kwai Fong just as it was getting busy, and was just settling into a bar with a relatively quiet patio when he saw a familiar figure in the distance, coming up the steps.

He took a swig of his beer, watching the figure and trying to decide if he should say something. In hindsight, Éponine never actually said who was going to the barbecue, he just didn't expect Enjolras to be the type of guy to frequent Lan Kwai Fong. 

He was about to just let it go and pretend he didn't see when Enjolras stopped in front of him, just on the threshold of the patio. They looked at each other for a few awkward moments, and Grantaire finally said, "didn't know you were this kind of person," in broken Cantonese.

"I'm usually not," Enjolras replied, in perfect Cantonese, because of fucking course. Grantaire had to laugh.

"So, what brings you here?"

"You weren't going to dinner, and initial trials are starting next week, and.... " he stepped over the low fence and pulled up a chair. "I don't know, I guess I feel that if we're drifting, then we should be more than strangers."

"The whole point of this project is that you could be strangers and still drift with them," said Grantaire, not putting down his glass.  "We aren't really drifting. But," he added, after a pause, "Starting next week, you definitely won't be a stranger to me."

Enjolras shifted.  "I guess not," he said. Grantaire beamed at him and winked over the top of his glass, and Enjolras shifted again. "I feel like... Sometimes you're setting out to make me uncomfortable."

Was he that transparent? "Maybe," he said.

"Why?"

He shrugged. Enjolras sighed, tried again. "Tell me one thing about yourself. Just one."

Grantaire smiled. "I was born in Hong Kong. Did you know that?" He held his hands out and did jazz hands, for effect.

Enjolras blinked. "But you don't speak Chinese."

"Hey, _rude_. Didn't you hear me speak it?" He laughed at Enjolras's startled look, as if he was actually afraid of offending Grantaire. "I kid. No, I don't speak it. But I grew up here, and I was here when they demolished Disneyland to expand the Shatterdome."

He leaned back, took a sip of his beer. "Which is cooler to a kid? Disneyland or giant robots? I never did decide."

Enjolras face went through a series of expressions and landed on constipated. Grantaire grinned and raised his glass to him.

"To the Jaeger program," he said, and took a drink. 


	2. Chapter 2

Grantaire wasn't at all mentally prepared for initial simulation trials, but they were going ahead regardless. He found Enjolras waiting for him in the Simulation Room half an hour early, back straight and fists clenched, already wearing the circuitry suit, techs buzzing around him.  It made Grantaire nervous just looking at him.

"Ready?" he asked.

Enojolras rubbed his eyebrows. "As much as I can be, I suppose."

They weren't even inside a Jaeger, instead, just connecting their consciousness to each other through the Conn-Pod headsets. Enjolras looked about ready to beat a man to death, though.  Or maybe a Kaiju. Grantaire sat down on Enjolras's left, and let Jehan attach the cold, heavy spinal clamps to the back of his neck.

"How are you feeling?" Éponine asked.

Grantaire shrugged, the motion slightly hampered by the heavy clamps on his shoulders. "Ready to write some reports. I guess we'll see what happens."

Éponine looked pained, but reached out and adjusted his headset.  "We're just going for five minutes. If anything looks unstable, we're pulling you out."

They both give a thumbs up, and Grantaire tried to focus on his breathing, slowly adjusting his breath to the mental recital of _Namo Amitābha_. In his ear, he could hear Éponine's voice, tinny, "Three... two... one--"

Between one moment and the next, Grantaire felt like he couldn't breathe, and then like he was taking a giant breath that kept going, that he couldn't stop, and his lungs were aching.

And he saw, when he opened his eyes, the room but from Enjolras's point of view. When it was too overwhelming and he squeezed his eyes shut, he still saw  the room. He gasped, making his breath stutter, and then choked, and tried to cough, but when he looked at his arm, it was outstretched without his permission.  A blanket of calmness and numbness suddenly descended upon him. He turned it, gazing at the palm, and then the back, unable to tell if it was his own arm or Enjolras's. He couldn't tell where he stopped and Enjolras began, but it was all overlaid with a tinny, metallic taste. Just a little bit left of centre. Like he was watching someone else move his body and his mind.

And then he was out. He wheezed and leaned forward, scrabbling at his headset. His hands felt clumsy and heavy, like he was suddenly dumped back into his stupid wreck of a body.

"Enjolras!" he heard someone call. Grantaire's head snapped towards the direction of the voice, before he caught himself. He yanked his headset off, and struggled to stand up. Éponine was by his side in an instant.

"I have to-- I have--" he got up clumsily and stumbled to the bathroom.

He just barely got there in time to throw up. When he was done, he rinsed his mouth and braced himself on the sink. He heard a knock on the door, and for a second, thought it was Combeferre, before he realized how stupidly impossible that was.

"Come in," he said.

Éponine opened the door slowly. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"That was... intense. How were the results?"

"Stable. It was a success."

Grantaire nodded. "How is he?"

Éponine frowned. "Forget about him for now. How are  _you_?"

Grantaire looked at himself in the mirror, and brushed his hair out of his face. "I'm... fine. I'm fine.  For a second, after we came out of drift, I thought I was him."

Éponine was conspicuously quiet.

He felt himself being pulled into an hug, and rested his chin on Éponine's shoulder. He closed his eyes, and heard Éponine say, soothingly, "We'll go to medical, and then you get some rest. We'll talk about when you want to do the next session."

He nodded, and when he opened his eyes, Enjolras was there, watching them warily. Grantaire straightened up and took a step back. Éponine said nothing, her hand still on his arm.

"Enjolras," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"That was... pretty strange." Enjolras said. "It was like I was drifting, but without the handshake. I could feel someone there, but... it felt like you were just observing."

Grantaire nodded. "Sounds about right. Was it too different from actually drifting?"

He shook his head. "Not so much. A little disorienting, since I haven't done that for a while, but it shouldn't be anything that I won't get used to."

Grantaire's smile felt like plastic. "Let's hope that's true for both of us."

 

+

 

The next few of sessions went great, and they were able to drift for 15, and then 30 minutes, then an hour.

Grantaire didn't throw up again, much to Éponine's relief. But after each session, he sat outside the simulation room, on the floor, clenching and unclenching his hands and trying to remember who he was.

It wasn't that he thought he was Enjolras. He knew, clearly, that he wasn't. But each time he came out of drift, there was a second of disorientation where he also wasn't Grantaire. It first lasted about a minute, and then five, and then longer than that.

He knew going in that this would be a little confusing. He was really just proving himself right. What he didn't account for was the fact that five minutes of not knowing who you were was a lot scarier experienced than it was described on a lab report. By the third session, a small migraine had started to develop behind his left eye.  He included that in the lab report, also.

Each time, when he had recovered his own memories enough to talk to Éponine, she made him go to medical, where he would lie in a rickety cot and stare at the blue walls for a couple of hours, wondering why he wanted to remember who he was in the first place.

 

+

 

"Do we have a Jaeger, or is this entire thing theoretical?" Enjolras asked him one day.

Grantaire slowed the treadmill down to a walk and pulled his earbuds out of his ears. From the side, Éponine put her tablet down.

"For now, we have both  _Eden Shrike_  and  _Rebel Six_  if anything comes up." he said carefully. He glanced at Éponine, who was watching them with a face that revealed nothing.

"I noticed you didn't answer my question."

Grantaire sighed and got off the treadmill. He looked at Éponine for permission, who nodded back, gathered up her files and turned to leave. Enjolras followed him back to the lab, where he pulled up his files.

"Here," he said, handing the tablet over.

Enjolras frowned down at the data. "Kaiju attacks.... Increasing in frequency? How come I haven't heard about this?"

"Because you're a Ranger--not even an active Ranger--and if you can't pilot a Jaeger then this isn't relevant to you anyway. I know this because Éponine is the lead on this project and even though I am a co-pilot, I'm still a J-Tech." He reached forward and tapped at the screen.

"Three Kaiju attacks forecasted for the next six months that would hit this Shatterdome alone. The honest truth is that even if  _Rebel Six_  and  _Eden Shrike_  are both at top capacity, they probably can't manage this on their own. The truth is that we  _need_  another functional Jaeger."

Enjolras mouth was in a tight line, his jaw tense and posture stiff. "Why wasn't I told about any of this?"

Grantaire sighed. "Enjolras," he said. "We're conducting a highly experimental process, of which its consequences are completely unknown. We've drifted four times in less than three weeks. Doesn't that feel a bit rushed to you? That's not even really enough time to analyze the results."

Enjolras looked striken, as if he hasn't really considered the implications. Grantaire hadn't really expect him to; he was the type to be completely focused on his mission, to a point where he could be considered tunnel visioned. He had experienced this first hand during their neural-handshake: Enjolras's laser focus and complete dedication to his task. He probably wondered why they weren't drifting even more frequently.

"We're going as fast as we can," he said. Enjolras flinched, and Grantaire knew he got it in one.  "I'm in charge of the time line, and I'm going as fast as I think I can handle it."

Enjolras head snapped up. "You don't think you can handle it? What's wrong?" It was like he noticed Grantaire, truly noticed him, for the first time.

Grantaire took a step back and raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Nothing you need to worry about, everything is in the lab reports." Which Enjolras had no access to, but he wasn't about to mention that. "I might be going a little fast, but I'm not suicidal. If things go south, I'll pull the plug."

"But--"

Grantaire held up a hand. Whatever Enjolras was protesting, and he didn't want to hear it.

"We do, in fact, have a Jaeger," he said, mostly to distract Enjolras.  It worked, Grantaire could see him straighten up at that. "It's partially repurposed from parts of your old Jaeger."

"Of my..." Enjolras sounded strangled, and Grantaire knew how conflicted that would make him feel. Like it was a betrayal to his old co-pilot and his old Jaeger, like he was dishonouring them.

Grantaire smiled, and tried his best to be kind, even if he didn't feel it. "Jaegers are expensive, Enjolras. We have to reuse what we can."

They looked at each other for a few minutes. Enjolras was at a loss for words, conflicted and not sure how to express it. He was always great at expressing himself, always so sure of his opinions and his moral righteousness. Grantaire had never seen him like this, but then again, Grantaire had never seen much of him at all until a few weeks ago.

"What... What's its name?" Enjolras asked.

Grantaire grinned. "It's not named yet. You're the solo Ranger on this, so we thought you should get the honour."

"No-- what? No! You're a Ranger too!"

Grantaire's grin widened. "I'm really not," he said. "But it's cute that you think so."

Enjolras scowled, pulled himself up straight and crossed his arms. "Well, I say we should both pick a name together, whether you consider yourself a Ranger or not."

It was achingly sweet, and so heartbreakingly  _Enjolras_  that Grantaire found himself chuckling. He just had to do what was right, even when it didn't mean or change anything. Enjolras just scowled harder, but refused to concede.

" _Theo Democracy_ ," Grantaire said.

Enjolras eyes widened, and then he deflated, expression resigned. "Of course," he said. "Of course you'd know."

"Of course," Grantaire echoed, quietly.

 

+

 

The thing with Enjolras's memories, was that every time Grantaire saw them, he knew for a fact that they were not his. In fact, Whenever Enjolras drifted, he was very focused on the task at hand.  None of that modesty reflex bullshit: he was a seasoned pro. But as good as he was at controlling his memories and emotions, bits of it still leaked through, and Grantaire was able to sense those.

It felt like an invasion of privacy, of course it did. But Enjolras went in fully knowing the implications of this kind of connection, and to Grantaire, it was more or less the only emotional connection he had with Enjolras.

He could feel Enjolras's impatience with the program, the desire to drift longer, the desire to pilot a  _goddamn Jaeger already_.

There was one memory, particularly bright, so much so that Grantaire half thought that Enjolras  _wanted_  him to see: one of Enjolras sitting in his bunker as he listened to the sirens go off. His arm wrapped around his knee, head bowed, fists clenched. Hearing the commotion outside, and knowing there wasn't anything he could do about it.

He could sense his bone-deep longing for Combeferre, the way that he still expected him to be around every corner, even though it'd been years. That perhaps this misery and helplessness and lonliness was driving him to be a little bit more reckless than he should be.

Boy, could Grantaire relate.

Last, and least, he could sense Enjolras's complete disregard for Grantaire. There was a little bit of curiosity, a pinch of disdain, a smattering of frustration, but in general, he barely knew he existed. Which Grantaire knew, and saw it confirmed every time they drifted.

 

.

 

At 0500 the next morning, there was a Kaiju attack.  It came up somewhere in the middle of the South China Sea, and seemed to want to head to Ho Chi Minh City.

_Eden Shrike_  was to be deployed, and Grantaire managed to catch a glimpse of Cosette and Fantine marching down the hallway, holding their helmets, heads high, the determined gleam in their eyes that all Rangers have.

"Am I starting to get that look too?" Grantaire asked when he sat down at his NBO console next to Éponine.

"What look?" She asked. "You're on Systems Two. Watch Cosette's vitals, she said she's been feeling weird lately."

Grantaire nodded. "Roger. Y'know, like I'm ready to die."

Éponine's hands paused on the controls before they resumed their flurry of activity. "Are you?"

Grantaire tilted his head. "It's hard to say. And it's hard to say how much of my determination is mine and how much is Enjolras."

Éponine sighed. "Give yourself some credit. When you signed up for Devilfish, that was all you."

Grantaire put on his headset and adjusted the mic. "Are we ready to go?" He asked. "Cosette? Fantine?"

They both replied affirmative, and Grantaire spent the next twelve hours watching their graphs and prompting them with verbal check-ins. It was tedious, exhausting work that was vitally important--the worst combination. When they were finally done, when Cosette and Fantine managed to dispose of the Kaiju and return to the Shatterdome, Grantaire was exhausted. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to actually pilot a Jaeger for twelve hours, even if he's only really along for the ride.

He went home and slept for an entire day, only waking up to the pounding on his door.

He stumbled to the door and opened it to find Enjolras outside, all golden and glorious and angry. He rubbed his eyes, not sure if he was dreaming, and deciding that it was too early for this either way.

"Where were you?" Enjolras demanded.

"Uhm," Grantaire said. He rubbed his face. Yawned. "Here. Sleeping."

"You missed the session."

Grantaire squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them again. "The... Drifting? Session? I didn't schedule one. There was a Kaiju attack yesterday, in case you didn't notice. I thought Éponine cancelled it. How do you know where I live?"

Enjolras frowned, and his expression gained a hair of concern. "Kaiju? What are you talking about?"

He was too tired for this, and he went back to his bed and sat down heavily on it. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep, his eyes felt like there was sand in it, his head heavy, and his migraine was back. He put his face in his hands.

"Yesterday," he mumbled. "Two days ago, I guess? Look, I'm sorry if you didn't get the memo, but they were short-handed, and I was put on as an NBO, and..." He stopped when he felt hands on his wrists, pulling them away from his face.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras face had an expression he couldn't read, but his voice was soft and cautious. "The Kaiju attack was over two weeks ago."

Grantaire suddenly felt wide awake. "What?"

Enjolras was still holding onto his wrists. Grantaire tried to pull them free, but the other held firm. "It's the twenty-first. The Kaiju attack happened over two weeks ago. We drifted for three hours last week, because you were concerned that that the projections may be wrong. You wanted to do it again. Today."

Grantaire stared at Enjolras. He looked up, around his room where everything, of course, looked the same. He never had many belongings to begin with, and he spent most of his time at the Shatterdome anyway. He shook Enjolras off and reached for his phone, scanned for the date. He apparently slept through seventeen calls, but that aside, Enjolras was right.

He stood up and tried to run outside before Enjolras managed to grab and stop him.

"Wait," Grantaire said. "I'm not going crazy. I just have to talk to Éponine."

"Éponine is on her way," Enjolras said. "You have to calm down first."

"No!" Grantaire shouted. "I have to write a report!"

They struggled like that for a few minutes until Éponine showed up at his door. Enjolras finally let go of him, and Grantaire grabbed Éponine's shoulders. "I have to write a report," he said urgently.

She looked startled, her hands raised up. "What happened?" She asked. "You missed the session."

"I'll tell you in the fucking report," he growled.

Éponine's gaze sharpened, pulling herself up and shaking Grantaire off. "What you need to do is calm down." She said. " _Sit down_."

Grantaire put his hands down immediately and sat down on the rickety chair by the window, while Enjolras watched with his arms crossed and a slightly impressed expression. Grantaire threw him a dirty look, but he said nothing.

"He lost two weeks," Enjolras said. "Is that... Possible?"

Éponine looked grave. "Yes," she said.

"He was fine after the session. He was fine yesterday too."

"It can be unpredictable. How do you feel, Grantaire?"

Grantaire squinted at her. "I feel fine, actually. If it's not too late, we can still do that session."

Enjolras scowled at him, and Éponine shook her head. "No. That's much too risky right now. I'm taking you to medical. Get changed."

Grantaire followed Éponine out a few minutes later to a a black sedan parked on a side street, waiting for them. He whistled as he got in.

"If I knew that all I had to do to get special treatment was to lose a couple of weeks, I would've tried this ages ago," he said brightly. Enjolras gave him a startled and slightly hurt look.

Éponine, in shotgun, just rolled her eyes. "Shut up, R," she said.

When they arrived, Éponine made a beeline for medical.  Grantaire made to follow, but he placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder. She gave him a questioning look, and he allowed his eyes to dart towards Enjolras, following behind them. She nodded.

"Enjolras," she said. "I'll brief you later. You're dismissed."

Grantaire can hear the outrage in Enjolras's pause. "What!?" he said. "No, I'm going with him!"

"This is a confidential consultation regarding his health. I will brief you later on what you need to--"

"Don't pull that with me," Enjolras snapped. "He's my co-pilot, and I am in my full right to know what's happening with him."

" _Enjolras_ ," Grantaire said breezily, "I know you make it a habit to worry about everything, but I assure you that this isn't something you can fix."

Enjolras closed his mouth with a click, and his expression turned stormy. "What are you saying, that I can't be worried about you?"

"I'm saying that there's literally nothing you can do in this situation, and there's no point in wasting your time."

"I'm not--"

"Enjolras!" Éponine interrupted. "Please. If there's anything you need to know, I _promise_  that you will find out."

He looked white and furious for a few seconds, but then spun and walked away. Éponine shook her head and led Grantaire down to medical, where Jehan was waiting for them. He gestured for Grantaire to sit down and make his arm into a fist.

"Should you really have done that?" Éponine asked as Jehan drew his blood. "He really was just worried."

"Technically, you're the one who did it."

"I think we all know who really sent him away. Now, how do you feel?"

"Mostly fine. I have a bit of a migraine."

She tutted and shook her head. "And you wanted another session."

Jehan drew several tubes of blood while Éponine grilled Grantaire about his health. Yes, he's fine. The last thing he remembered was the fight between the Kaiju and  _Eden Shrike_. Yes, it's happened before, but never for longer than a few minutes. Sometimes it comes back. Sometimes it doesn't. Nothing is coming back so far.

When Jehan was finished, she made Grantaire get in the MRI scanner.

When he got out, Javert was waiting for him with a pained expression, but in Grantaire's limited experience Javert's expression is always a variety of the following: pained, grim, determined, and angry. Éponine waved him off, and he followed him to his office and sat down, and noticed that Javert's expression is now hovering somewhere between determined and grim.

"Éponine has given me a rundown of the situation. I believe you have a report to write?" Javert said.

"Yessir."

"How are you feeling?"

"No worse than usual, sir."

Javert was quiet for a few minutes, but then said, "We're both aware of the terms of the waiver, but if you want to quit now, I think everyone involved would understand."

Grantaire was frankly a little surprised that Javert was giving him an out. "Can the project afford any more delays, sir?"

Javert shook his head.

"Then I'll stay."

"I just want you to understand that any complications, and there  _will_  be complications, are part of the the choice that you're making."

Javert was quiet for a few minutes, and then added, "There are other Jaeger pilots in training. And there may be someone else who is drift compatible with Enjolras."

Grantaire felt his spine stiffen. "No," he said, a little too quickly. "I can do this."

Javert watched him for a while longer, then sighed. "As long as you're sure," he said. "We'll resume the session tomorrow, and you can take a look at the schedule and see what you can handle." He turned and waved a hand, dismissing Grantaire.

When Grantaire got back to the lab, Enjolras was, predictably, leaning by the wall next to his desk waiting for him. Grantaire managed to paste on the most obnoxious, carefree grin in his repertoire.

"Ah, the darling of the Jaeger program," he said, pushing past Enjolras and reaching into his drawers for his painkillers. He swallowed three dry before he turned to look at his guest. "What can I do for you?"

Enjolras had watched this with an unimpressed look. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," he said. "The memory thing is probably just a glitch, I'm starting to get bits of it back."

"Of course. And you're popping painkillers like candy because you feel completely fine." When Grantaire just smiled gormlessly at him, he shook his head. "What did you eat for lunch yesterday?"

Grantaire frowned. "And how would you confirm that? We didn't eat together."

Enjolras gave him a look that was so betrayed that Grantaire had to do a double take. He wasn't aware that Enjolras was even capable of making an expression like that, and he desperately tried to back-pedal.

"If you're looking for a cause, then focus on all the people you'll save when we're ready to go," he said. "You're wasting your energy worrying about me." Enjolras's expression just grew even more hurt as he was talking, and Grantaire trailed off, not sure what else to say.

"How can you expect me not to worry? Do you think I'm some kind of... heartless monster?"

"No, no, I never said anything like that. You're over thinking things. I'm just saying you should be a forward thinker, and not get bogged down on details. You have a tendency to do that, don't you?"

"Don't talk like you know me--"

"But I do, dear Apollo. certainly better than you know me."

"I'm trying to--"

"You feel guilty about something out of your control. Do you feel responsible for everything, Enjolras? Do you feel responsible for the Kaiju?"

Enjolras stared at him in stunned silence, and then he said, "You don't believe that," he said. 

Grantaire's silence confirmed it. They stared at each other until Grantaire shifted uncomfortably. "Why are you always trying to get a rise out of me?" Enjolras finally asked.

"I'm not," Graintaire started, and then stopped. "Because," he tried again. Enjolras was still watching at him. "To prove that I exist," he finally said.

Enjolras was wary, but his gaze sharpened, as if he didn't expect Grantaire to actually say anything. Or anything honest, at least. For once he looked like he was at a loss for words.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a report to write, and we have to drift tomorrow morning, if I get my way."

Enjolras left without a word.

 

+

 

When Éponine saw him the next morning, the first thing she said was, "You're getting that look," and Grantaire laughed until he couldn't breathe.

The simulation went smoothly, or as smoothly as something like that can go. Enjolras was furious the entire time, and it was something Grantaire could sense even without the Conn-Pod headset. But Enjolras didn't complain or snap at Grantaire, just gritted his teeth and went through with it.

When they got out, Grantaire patted Enjolras's knee and said, "Attaboy," without really knowing why, and somehow ended up in medical again, trying to sleep off his headache. He kept getting flashes of a cobblestone street that he was sure he had never seen before.

He met with Javert and Éponine when he managed to drag himself out of bed, and spent the entire meeting with his head cradled in his hand.

"Are we boring you?" Javert asked humorlessly.

Grantaire shook his head. "Migraine," he said.

Éponine gave him a concerned look. "Is it getting worse? Rate the pain on a scale of one to ten."

"Uhm," he said. He found it hard to focus. "Five? Seven?" 

Javert looked at Éponine sternly. "I thought you said that he's getting acclimated to the neural handshake."

Éponine sat up straight, startled, and Grantaire interrupted. "I am," he said. "I don't throw up anymore, and I've been having an easier time with the disassociation."

"Elaborate."

"It means that it doesn't scare the hell out of me anymore when I don't know who I am."

The silence in the room was deafening, and when Grantaire looked up from the comfort of his palm, Javert and Éponine were both staring at him with horrified expressions. Javert, Grantaire noted absently, looked rather hilarious horrified.

"Grantaire," Javert said, "If things don't improve for you, I am pulling you out."

Grantaire scrambled to sit up. "Wait,  _what?_  You can't  _do_  that."

"You will find that I can do anything I want, as I am the Marshal," Javert said, severely.

Grantaire turned to Éponine for help, only to find her nodding.

"Everything has been in the reports," Grantaire said, slowly. "What brought this on?"

"Nothing," Éponine said. "This has  _always_ been the plan, don't you remember? To pull the plug if it goes south? Guess what, R? It's  _fucking going south!_ "

"One more chance, Grantaire," Javert said.

Grantaire was about to shout back, only to have a sudden flash of pain in his head stop him. Éponine was suddenly by his side, holding his shoulder, and he shook her off. He managed to stand up and storm off, stalking by Enjolras, who watching him with an unreadable expression---

 

\--and then he was in the washroom, throwing up into a toilet. He flushed, and scrubbed his face, standing up when the cramping and clenching in his stomach had eased up enough. He washed his face, staring at the planes and shadows of his hands in the running water, his skin sallow and pale in the bright fluorescent light.

There was a knock on the door, and he opened it to see Éponine on the other side, looking like she hadn't slept in days. Her hair was in a bun, but Grantaire couldn't tell from the clinical lab coat whether her outfit was the same or not.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I've been better," he said, evasive. He looked down at what he was wearing. He was wearing a circuitry suit, which he didn't expect, but somehow didn't surprise him. He looked at his hands again. They didn't look familiar, but not foreign. He closed his eyes.

"What's the date today?" he asked, finally.

He heard Éponine's sharp intake of breath, and a light touch on his shoulder. "Did you lose more time? What's the last thing you remember?"

"That meeting with you and Javert."

The answering silence was tense. Finally, Éponine said, "Which one?" which was answer enough.

Grantaire took a deep breath, and let it out. His stomach was still clenched, and he still felt vaguely nauseous. "I'll be out in a minute," he said, and closed the door.

He braced himself on the sink, and slowly, forced himself to look in the mirror.

He didn't recognize the face staring back at him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them again. He didn't much want to either. It was a pale, tired face, rings around its eyes, lines around its mouth, and a three-day stubble. His hair was down to his shoulders, and he didn't remember if it was just something he was trying or if it was always like that. He saw what Éponine meant about "getting that look". He wore resigned acceptance like a comfortable old coat, and he felt almost proud of himself for it.

He opened the door again, "Éponine," he said, only to stop short. Éponine was nowhere to be seen, and Enjolras was standing with a hand up, as if about to knock.

It took all of Grantaire's willpower to scrape together enough effort for a smile. "Apollo," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"How much time did you lose?"

Grantaire dropped his smile. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have no idea."

"We have to stop this," Enjolras said.

His head snapped up, he dropped his hand. "No," he said immediately.

"We can talk to Javert. I don't know what he told you, but we can't keep going on like this. You're bleeding memories, God knows what's happening to your body. You've been in here throwing up for half an hour."

Enjolras stopped Grantaire when he tried to push past him. He struggled, but gave in, mostly because his stomach was still clenching, and his arms felt weak.

"I just want to go home, Enjolras," he said. "I'll probably have to write another report. I'm exhausted. Let me go home."

"You have to go to medical."

Grantaire shook his head, and Enjolras's hand tightened around his arm. "I'll take you," he insisted.

Grantaire felt all the fight go out of him, and he let his shoulders droop, resigned. Enjolras was hovering, and it made him feel claustrophobic. About halfway there, Grantaire just gave up and let Enjolras hold him up.

When they got there, it was empty, and Grantaire turned to him and said, "Thank you for escorting me here. I had a great time, you were a true gentlemen."

Enjolras just sighed and rolled his eyes. "Come on. I'm just going to make sure you don't collapse in the doorway."

"I'm a big boy, I can get to bed on my own."

"Shut up, R, and just let me help."

It took a few seconds to register that Enjolras had called him by his nickname. Enjolras didn't seem to notice his shock and bustled around the room after helping Grantaire to an empty bed. He was calling someone--probably Jehan, by the sounds of it--and then banged around some more, messing with a kettle for some reason.

Grantaire sat down at his bed and buried his face in his hands. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and when he looked up, Enjolras was sitting in the chair across from him, handing him a cup of tea. It was brewed ridiculously strong, with cream and no sugar, like how Grantaire preferred. He frowned down at it. 

"How are you feeling?"

"A little confused," Grantaire said. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Enjolras scowled. "I'm worried about you. I'm allowed to do that, right?"

Grantaire laughed. "Of course you are, Apollo. You're allowed to do anything your beautiful little heart desires."

Enjolras just scowled harder, and he put his own cup of tea down on a small end table. He rubbed his hands through his hair, as frustrated a gesture as Grantaire had ever seen him do. He made an angry sound, completely undignified.

"This is impossible," Enjolras said. "It's like one step forward, two steps back with you."

"I believe you mean--"

"I know what I said!" he snapped. "This is impossible. Every time I feel like we're making progress, that we've connected, you lose it. And then you're back to looking at me like a stranger.  I have absolutely  _no_ idea what you remember and what you don't."

Grantaire sipped at his cup of tea. "I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you."

"But you  _aren't_ me! I know you like to say that you've been inside my head, but how much of that do you  _actually remember_?"

"Enough."

"Grantaire, look at me." Grantaire forced himself to make eye contact, and maintain it. "You're my co-pilot. I know that may not mean much to you, but it does to me. Even if we're not drifting in the traditional sense, you're still my co-pilot."

Grantaire dropped his eyes, and felt Enjolras's touch the bottom of his chin. He looked up again. "I'm worried about you."

"Look," said Grantaire. "I'm not your co-pilot. I'll never be Combeferre--" and he heard Enjolras's sharp inhale at that, "and I'll never be drift compatible with you. Do you know what I am?"

"You're my co-pilot," said Enjolras, stubborn.

"No, I'm your blood bag. Do you know what's happening to me? I'm taking all the mental stress of the drift while you maintain control.  _That's_  what's happening." He shook his head sharply. "I'm not a co-pilot, and don't you worry your pretty head about it. All I need to do is sit there."

Enjolras was pale and quiet. "Where did you grow up?" he asked.

Grantaire sighed. "Now who's losing their memory? Paris."

Enjolras struggled with something for a few minutes. "No," he said. "You grew up in Hong Kong."

Grantaire sipped his tea and raised an eyebrow. "How's that possible? I don't even speak Chinese."

"Don't you? Why not?"

"Because..." he paused. "Because I went to an international school."

"In Paris."

"In...." he put his tea down. He stood up, stayed standing for a few minutes, trying to picture the city beyond the thick walls of the Shatterdome. He had never been to Paris before. He sat down again, dug his hands into his hair. He couldn't remember his mother's face.

He felt the light touch of Enjolras at his shoulder. "We have to stop this," he said.

"No," said Grantaire. "I can't."

There was despair and frustration in Enjolras's voice. "Why not?"

"Because," he said, his voice rising, "If there isn't any of  _me_  left in me then  _all I have left is you!"_

Enjolras stiffened up. He reached out, almost touched Grantaire, and retracted his hand. "No," he said. "We're talking to Javert tomorrow. We're stopping this."

He made to stand up, and Grantaire grabbed his arms. "Please," he said. "Don't do this. Look, let's just forget we ever had this conversation. You didn't want to know that, and I didn't want to put that kind of burden on you. Let's just--"

Enjolras shook him off, and Grantaire just grabbed his sleeve instead. "Do you-- Did you think that I'm doing this because I can't  _take the emotional burden?_ "

"Why  _else_? I know you, Enjolras, and I know that you don't give a shit about me--"

Enjolras looked away. "Please don't say that," he said. "As far as you remember, the last time you were in my head may well be months ago, don't say you know how I feel. I'm doing this for you."

"If you were doing this for me then you wouldn't do this at all!"

Enjolras wrenched himself out of Grantaire's grip and made to leave. Grantaire tried to grab him again, but he was exhausted and slow, and Enjolras managed to dodge him and slip out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Grantaire just watched the door for a few minutes, and sat down heavily on his bed, and slumped over. He fished out his phone and called Éponine. He got a busy signal, and tried again. Éponine picked up.

"Enjolras told me," Éponine said.

"I figured," Grantaire replied. "Can I change your mind?"

"No. If the Ranger backs out the project is on hold. Besides, Javert agrees."

Grantaire sighed, closed his eyes. "Didn't he sign a waiver?"

"Grantaire," she said, stern. "You made a choice and I respected that, but do you think that it didn't break my heart to see you like this? Did you think that I  _want_  to see you this way? We're not monsters. If you need to back out, we'll let you back out."

When Grantaire didn't say anything, she added, "I felt like I haven't been doing enough to talk you out of this. I may have... encouraged Enjolras to back out."

"You--  _what_?" Grantaire growled.

"He didn't need much encouraging. He's concerned about you."

Grantaire threw his arm over his eyes. "Of course he's concerned about me! He's concerned about  _everything_! He wants to save the world with his own two hands!"

"You're not giving yourself enough credit," Éponine said. She hung up. She was mad at him, but Grantaire was too busy being mad at her back to care about it. He threw his phone across the room and went to sleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 Jehan woke him up bright and early the next morning and, while Grantaire was still blinking sleep out of his eyes, subjected him to every test under the sun. Grantaire was still squinting at the eye exam posted on the wall, lit blue by the lifeless flourescent lights of the room, when Jehan strode back into the room, Éponine in tow.

"Good news or bad news?" he asked.

Grantaire waved his hand.

"The good news is that your withdraw from Devilfish couldn't have come sooner. Bad news is that your MRI is showing damage in a couple of areas of your brain. You may never regain your memories."

Grantaire tilted his head back, stared up at the ceiling. "What about my headache?" He asked.

"Hopefully, that will go away with time and rest. It's.... Really for the best that you stopped, R. I wouldn't hold my breath, but the damage might still be reversible. But if we had kept at it...."

"Yeah, yeah. Heard it all."

Jehan shook his head, and Éponine sat down beside him. She put her hand over his. "I get it," she said.

"No, you really don't."

"I do. But aren't you being a bit selfish?"

"Am I being selfish by sacrificing myself for the program?"

"The program has nothing to do with your motivations and you know it. Enjolras--"

"Don't." Grantaire scraped his hand over his face. "I just..."

Éponine stroked his arm soothingly. He heard Jehan clear his throat and say something about being in the next room over. They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Grantaire was able to speak again.

"That's it, y'know? The only connection I have with him is this. Not even actual drifting. Just."

Grantaire took several deep breaths. "I suppose he's retiring as a Ranger?"

Éponine pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder. She ran her fingers through his hair. He really didn't deserve her. "He's looking for a co-pilot. Someone he can be Drift Compatible with. Courfeyrac seems promising."

When Grantaire tried to speak, what came out was a sob. He tried again, and again, and before he knew it he was whimpering and sniffing into Éponine's shoulder. She brushed her hand in his hair and talked to him, low and soothing.

When he calmed down, she gave him paid leave for as long as he needed, and when he came back he would be lead J-Tech on  _Rebel Six_.

Grantaire nodded. 

 

+

Grantaire took three weeks off, and he spent most of that exploring a city that he grew up in but had forgotten. He knew he didn't have anyone to blame but himself, and he actually quite enjoyed rediscovering it all.

He thought about going back to Vladivostok, and then considered moving to San Francisco to join Valjean. They needed J-techs there, and he had plenty of experience, even though he didn't know if he could include the months he lost.

When he looked in the mirror, his face was familiar, but still didn't feel like it belonged to him. Kind of like the face of a distant cousin he saw once a year. He didn't know if he actually saw his cousins once a year. He wasn't even sure if he had any cousins or not, and he was too afraid to find out.

He had memories, it wasn't that he didn't have them. But he was missing chunks, and what he had were faded, with a film of emotional detachment on top. It made it hard to discern which memories were his and which were just something he saw on TV.

The only thing he knew about himself with absolute certainty was the fact that he had given up his own memories and identity when he had signed up for Devilfish. He didn't know what kind of skeletons he had in his own closet, and trying to think about it was like prodding at a scab, muted and itchy and with the threat of something hurting much more.

Unexpectedly, one morning, he woke up to the memory of his mother singing, and he lay in bed and cried for an hour. Then he got up, and called Éponine to force her to leave work and get lunch with him. She did.

During his leave, Éponine refused to engage in shop talk, but he watched the news, and Rangers were always on the news. Enjolras was now piloting a Jaeger with Courfeyrac, named  _Neo Empire_. There were two Kaiju attacks, and they handled one. The other was neatly taken care of by  _Rebel Six_.

The near head-splitting headache he had been dealing with eased up to be a dull thud, and then to be a barely there ping. The memories that he knew belonged to Enjolras were starting to fade, and Grantaire clung to them like a desperate man, despite having no right to them at all.

He didn't see Enjolras once.

 

+

 

 

The first day back, Grantaire spotted Enjolras sitting in the mess hall with Courfeyrac. Grantaire took one look and turned to walk out of the room. He was already mentally composing his resignation letter when he ran into Éponine, who gave him a pitying look.

"Go down to Lab 4," she said, apparently acquiring the ability to read his mind. "I'll bring you lunch."

"You're the best," he said.

It wasn't hard to avoid him because unless he directly worked on his Jaeger, there was very little reason for a Ranger to interact with the crew. Even as the lead J-Tech on  _Rebel Six_ , Grantaire mostly communicated with only Joly, and allowed him to use whatever ghost drifting telekinesis to relay information to the other two pilots.

Joly, for the most part, was completely overjoyed to have Grantaire back on their team. This resulted in a tendency to try to force him to eat with them, which Grantaire constantly tried to turn down. His excuses were getting paper thin, and he hoped that Joly would just take the hint and stop inviting him. He didn't.

He had finally given in one day and agreed to the invitation to go out drinking, mostly because it was drinking, and because they were also inviting Éponine, so he would feel less like a fourth wheel.

He was still in the hangar that evening, reviewing the data on  _Rebel Six_  safety checks, when he felt a presence at his back.

"Hey, Ép. I'll be right there. I'm just finishing up."

Enjolras cleared his throat, and Grantaire jumped and spun around to stare at him. Enjolras looked uncomfortable, even more so than when they had first met, and Grantaire tried to smile, be casual. Pleasant. He was sure it wasn't working. 

"What can I do for you, Apollo?"

Enjolras shifted awkwardly. "I'm just here to get you. They're waiting for us upstairs."

"Oh. You're going too? Drinking?" He couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice.

Enjolras looked ready for a fight, which, by now, Grantaire knew that it was just how he looked when he was nervous. He nodded.

Grantaire looked back at his console, and briefly considered making an excuse and bailing on the lot of them, but decided that Enjolras would probably see through it. "Alright," he said, resigned. "Where are we going?" 

"I think they want to go to Lei Yue Mun." 

Grantaire groaned. "All the way  _there?_  I thought they wanted to drink."

"The drinking comes after, I think."

Grantaire sighed. "What's the occasion?" 

Enjolras's voice was dry. "I believe the occasion is seafood." 

Grantaire sighed again and grabbed his bag, following Enjolras. On the way up, he tried to school his expression to one good cheer, or even just mild amusement. He knew that sometimes he was invited to things to be some kind of hype man, so the least he could do was bring the party. 

When they joined the rest of the group, he swung an arm around Joly's shoulders. "Seafood," he crowed, voice as bright as he could force it. "I'm choosing every single thing we cook tonight, alright? I am the resident expert on fresh seafood." 

Joly laughed and tried to shake him off. "You, with your computers and your numbers? What do  _you_  know about seafood?" 

"I'll have you know I was born and bred in Hong Kong, the most fragrant of harbours. I know a good fish when I see it.  Where did  _you_  come from, huh? Texas or something? New York?" 

Grantaire caught the startled look that Enjolras threw him, but decided to ignore it. From his other side, Éponine rolled her eyes. "New York is a harbour, you imbecile." 

Dinner felt like a strange echo of the dinner they had the first night he was back in town, even if the memory of that was a little fuzzy. Enjolras, again, sat across from him, as far away as possible, picking away at the fish in his bowl. Éponine was on his side, refilling his tea probably more than she really needed to, until he finally put his hand over his cup. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked, quiet. Around the table, the conversation was loud and rambunctious, and no one paid them any mind. Grantaire wondered what his face looked like.  

"You've been asking me that every day, Ép. I feel fine. Way better than I did before." 

"You shouldn't drink so much." 

"What are you, my mom? I've had one beer, that's hardly overindulging." 

Éponine smiled. "Maybe not for you. You're still recovering though. Just because you're not fucking with your brain on a regular basis doesn't mean you should fall right back into alcoholism." 

"I was never an alcoholic," Grantaire said over the rim of his glass, but he smiled. He wasn't lying, he hadn't felt this good in a while. 

Enjolras, on the other side of the table, was making easy conversation with Bahorel. Courfeyrac, on Enjolras's right, was talking to Joly, and without turning to look at Enjolras, lifted a spoon and handed it to him. Enjolras took it without fanfare to scoop something into his bowl. 

Grantaire felt his smile drop off his face, and he knew Éponine was watching, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He took a swig of his beer. Éponine opened her mouth, and Grantaire turned to talk to Bossuet, on his other side. 

It was late by the time they left the restaurant, and the rest of them still wanted to go somewhere, some kind of bar or dim sum or karaoke or something. Grantaire excused himself, pleading exhaustion, and it wasn't exactly a lie. Éponine looked worried, as she always did, but didn't say anything, and a few seconds later Grantaire found out why. 

He felt a tap on his arm. "I'll take you home," Enjolras said. 

Grantaire stopped. "Um," he said. "I think I can manage."

"Come on, you're on my way back." 

Grantaire blinked, but didn't argue. He thought Enjolras lived in the Shatterdome, but at this point he really couldn't be sure. He followed Enjolras to the station without any further complaints, and stood, waiting for the train with his hands in his pockets, not knowing what else to do. It was late, and the station was relatively quiet, and Grantaire was tired, and he didn't know what to say or where to put his hands. He was watching the shampoo commercial on the other side of the glass doors for the fifth time when Enjolras suddenly spoke. 

"How are you feeling?" 

Grantaire sighed internally. He'd hoped it wouldn't be this the entire ride home. "I'm feeling great. Don't worry your beautiful soul about me." 

"You're looking a lot better." 

He smiled wryly. He looked at Enjolras in the reflection in the glass, who was staring at his feet. "So are you. I suppose congratulations are in order. You finally got your co-pilot, and you finally got your Jaeger. I see they didn't let you name it, though."

In the glass, Enjolras' eyes met his for a brief second, then he looked away. "They did," he said. 

"Ah," said Grantaire. "Then it's a pity Courfeyrac didn't agree with the name." 

"No, he wasn't picky." 

Grantaire wasn't really sure what he should say to that, but he felt like Enjolras wanted him to ask, so he did. "Then why didn't you name it Theo Democracy?" 

Enjolras took a deep breath, and then deflated. Just then, the train arrived, and Grantaire was saved from having to listen to him struggle to explain. When they got on, several people recognized Enjolras and wanted his autograph and to thank him for his service.  Enjolras looked like he didn't know what to do with the attention, despite being the recipient of it for well over a decade now. Grantaire watched from the side with an amused grin. 

Enjolas ambled over to him a few minutes later, though, and said, "that was the name we decided on, for our Jaeger. I couldn't use it when you weren't there." 

It took a couple of seconds for Grantaire to rewind enough to realize what he was saying, and when he did, he snorted out a laugh. "I didn't take you to be so sentimental, Enjolras. You didn't have to worry, I wouldn't have been offended. It was your name, after all, I just picked it from you." 

Enjolras shook his head. "It was ours," he said. 

Grantaire hummed and turned away. "Don't be too precious about that idea," he said. "We'll never be co-pilots. You'll never use that name if you cling onto it." 

Enjolras grabbed his arm. "Will you just--" he made a frustrated noise. "Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep pushing me away?" 

"I'm not, Apollo. You're over-thinking it." He didn't move to shake Enjolras off, but he let go anyway. 

When they got to Grantaire's stop, he glanced at Enjolras, who was watching him with a determined look. "I suppose you're going escort me to my door, like the gentlemen you are," he said dryly. 

"May I?" 

Grantaire laughed weakly. "When have I ever had the power to stop you from doing what you wanted?" he said. He started out, with Enjolras close behind his heels. He tried to push through the crowd, and felt Enjolras grasp at his sleeve to slow him down. He did, despite himself. Felt Enjolras' shoulder brush against his. 

"When have you  _ever_  done what I wanted or let me done as I please, Grantaire?" he asked.

_When have you ever asked?_  Grantaire thought, but didn't voice it.

They got up to his apartment, and Grantaire let him in without making a fuss, brewed a cup of tea for each of them. Enjolras sat cross legged on Grantaire's bed, and stared down at his tea. Grantaire sat in the chair. It was upholstered and comfortable.  

"Do you know when I bought this chair?" he asked. 

Enjolras' head snapped up. "Hasn't your memory returned?" 

Grantaire shifted in his chair. "No." 

Enjolras looked down at his tea again, his expression so broken that Grantaire wanted to hug him. He settled for taking a sip out of his cup. "You said that you grew up in Hong Kong. I thought that... maybe it's been coming back in pieces." 

"Very small pieces. I knew I grew up here. You told me so." 

"I'd hoped..." He didn't continue. 

"Sorry," Grantaire offered.

Enjolras put the tea down on the windowsill, and pushed an ashtray around. "We drifted, you know," he said. 

Grantaire smiled grimly. "I know." 

"No, not like that. I know you don't think what we did was drifting, and I still consider it so, but we actually did drift. Neural handshake. Shared memories. All of it." 

Grantaire felt his stomach drop. "What?"

Enjolras nodded. "Once," he said. "for a split second." 

Grantaire had never felt this conflicted before. He drifted with Enjolras.  _Drifted_. He was afraid to ask, but he had to. "What did you see?" 

Grantaire didn't need to hear the answer, he could see it in Enjolras' expression.  He put the tea down with a thud and stood up, went to the door. "Please leave," he said. 

"No, Grantaire--" 

"I get it, okay? I get why you were so desperate to quit the program. I get that this is heavy and weird, I  _get it._ Please, _please_  just leave me alone." 

" _Grantaire_ _!_ " Enjolras shouted. He caught Grantaire's face in his hands, forcing them to make eye contact. "You  _don't get it!_ I did drift with you. And do you know what I saw after your memories?" 

Grantaire closed his eyes. Enjolras' grasp tightened. "Nothing," he said. "pitch, black, nothing. And  _that's_  why I had to stop." 

"I know," Grantaire said, his eyes still closed. "I get it." 

"No you don't," said Enjolras, his voice much closer than Grantaire expected, and then he felt a light pressure on his lips. Granter's eyes snapped open and he took a step back, which put him neatly up against the kitchen counter. 

"What are you doing?" Grantaire said, horrified. Dread was starting to fill him up, thick and nauseous. It was only a split second, but what if those emotions were transferred--

"Stop that," Enjolras snapped. "Am I not allowed to form attachments? Am I not allowed to have emotions? Why are you so fucking self-centred, Grantaire?" 

"I'm not--" 

"Yes, you are. I could see how you saw me. Cold, distant, unemotional, pragmatic, righteous. Unattainable. Isn't that why you call me Apollo? So you don't have to come to terms with the fact that I'm a human being?" 

Grantaire slumped over, braced his hand on the kitchen counter behind him. Enjolras was taking heavy breaths, filling up with righteous fury, directed at him. And here he was again, thinking of Enjolas in the same way that he was accused of. 

"I'm sorry," he said. 

Enjolras looked away, and back at him again. "Am I not allowed to just  _like_  you?" he asked. 

Grantaire grimaced. He sincerely didn't know what to say. "What about Courfeyrac?"

Enjolras pulled himself straighter. "Courfeyrac!" he nearly shouted. "What does he have to do with this? Why is he suddenly in the  _fucking equation?_ " 

Grantaire found himself straightening up too, frustrated that Enjolras doesn't understand. "Because he's your co-pilot! I know how these things work, okay?"

"No," Enjolras said. "No, you really don't. What do you think, that I'm drift compatible with him and suddenly we're married? That we become the same person? That's  _not how it works_. We're neurologically compatible. We have a connection, but it doesn't mean we're  _soul mates."_

"And you're saying this," Grantaire gestured between himself and Enjolras, "is stronger than your relationship with your  _drift compatible_   _co-pilot_? Are you saying I'll ever be able to  _compete_?" 

"I don't  _know_ , because you won't give it a chance!" 

They stood, staring at each other, angry and breathing heavily, and Grantaire almost thought that Enjolras would punch him when there was a pounding on the wall from their neighbour. Grantaire spun around and pointed at the wall.

"Go to hell!" he shouted, in Cantonese. 

When he turned back, Enjolras had one arm crossed over his chest, and his face covered with his other hand. Grantaire thought he'd done it, that he'd finally broken Enjolras, when he saw that his shoulders were shaking. 

"Are you laughing at me?" Grantaire said, incredulous. 

"I just," Enjolras gasped, between snickers, "That's the only thing I've ever heard you say accurately." 

Grantaire deflated, and couldn't help a smile. He went to the chair by the window and sat down, picked up his now cold tea. Enjolras sat down at the bed again, his knees knocking against Grantaire's. 

"I wasn't able to find anyone that was drift compatible with me for five years," he said. 

Grantaire nodded woodenly. 

"I couldn't because I missed Combeferre, and I was too stubborn to open myself up to the possibility." 

"I know this, Enjolras. I've been inside your head." 

Enjolras nodded. "But I was so desperate not to lose you... that I had to make myself do it." 

Grantaire closed his eyes again, and this time he didn't fight it when he felt Enjolras' hands around his face, and lips on his forehead.

"Courfeyrac understands," he continued. "After all, he's been inside my head too." 

"That's not nearly as comforting as you seem to think it is," Grantaire muttered, and was silenced by lips against his. 

"You think you're sharing me with Courfeyrac," said Enjolras. "And you are. And I'm sharing you with Éponine, because let's face it, if you were going to be drift compatible with anyone, it would be her. I'm sharing you with Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta. And we're sharing each other with the Jaeger program. And there are gigantic monsters attacking cities on a semi-regular basis. Let's not make this any more difficult than it already is."

"That's the least romantic thing I've ever heard," Grantaire said, but this time when Enjolras kissed him, he returned it. 


End file.
